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He sits with his back to the old piano.
THe grouper above it keeps his distance
he knows, being also a watery soul,
That the human watches the crowd
ebb and flow in the room like the tide.
And like any good pirate, he wonders what
it would be like if this was HIS ship.
"Dale! It's your bid." He smiles and
like all pirate's must, heads for port.
Or ale.